


lead me on

by xighs



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Kissing, Light Angst, Making Out, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24409231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xighs/pseuds/xighs
Summary: Pidge is a naturally touchy person and everyone has gotten past used to it by now so as the ever observant leader of Voltron, he should already see it coming in the way Pidge is excitedly covering his eyes in her hands, tall enough now to reach up to them without needing to stand on her toes - the warmth of her torso behind him tightening his chest, the close proximity of her breathing tickling the back of his neck; unwittingly stimulating the spread of a flush creeping upwards towards his cheeks.This is normal, this is normal, this is normal,he reassures himself for the umpteenth time.Pidge is a naturally touchy person and everyone has gotten past used to it by now.Everyone except him, apparently.
Relationships: Keith/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 18
Kudos: 234





	lead me on

**Author's Note:**

> this headcanon of pidge being a touchy slut towards her fellow paladins and keith suffering the worst end of it while everyone's fuckin used to it by now SIMPLY WONT LEAVE ME
> 
> i regret nothing- enjoy

Okay, so Keith can’t help himself for being inherently observant by nature - that’s just how he is.

In battle, he has to make last minute decisions that require quick but acute analyzation on probable strategies that have the highest rate of success. It’s worked out for the team so far. He guesses that’s why assuming the leader role in Voltron came almost as instinctively as knife fighting to him. Sure, he was reluctant at first but after losing Shiro - what other choice did he have? The team depended on him and he depended on the team to stay together. Now that they’ve fallen back into some semblance of routine normalcy after months of adjusting into the shift of team dynamics with the new assignment of paladin roles, his introspective trait of observation as the leader of Voltron has been honed even more.

Which is both a good and bad thing depending on where you look at it because right now, at the most trivial (and non-battle, might he add) of moments, he can’t help himself from being hyperaware of Pidge’s shoulder leaning against his own in the most relaxed, unbothered way possible in the middle of one of Lance’s movie nights hosted in his room by which the team has been enthusiastically supportive over lately. Though Keith would never admit it aloud lest he strokes Lance’s ego even more, it’s great being reminded that they’re normal teenagers instead of defenders of the universe once in awhile - especially after a long day of tough missions. This nightly activity of theirs distracts them from just that. _Thanks, Lance._

They’re currently watching an 80s pop culture classic called _The Breakfast Club,_ which Keith has never heard of before now - cue strangled gasp from Lance - but apparently it continues to maintain a massive cult following for decades since its release, much to Allura and Coran’s fascination on the influence of mainstream media on impressionable human beings.

“The hyperfixation humans have on certain films is most extraordinary,” Allura muses.

“And don’t forget the mass glorification!” Coran adds.

“Oh, don’t get me started on the internet’s obsession with Mean Girls,” Lance snorts. “It’s overrated, if you ask me.”

“Hey!” Hunk yells. “There shall be no slander of Mean Girls in this spaceship.”

“Can’t be any more slander than whatever Lance has got against The Twilight Zone,” Pidge mutters.

Keith’s got his arm pinned awkwardly behind Pidge’s back, what with everyone crammed together on Lance’s bed constantly trying to find comfortable seating positions while watching the film that’s being projected onto the wall opposite them. Coran had suggested one time about relocating movie night to the lounge instead but Lance argued that that’ll ruin the whole _cozy, bedroom ambience_ that’s apparently the ideal setting for movie watching by Lance’s standards. Coran dared not question more on adolescent rationale when it comes to movie watching - surely these human kids know better.

“What’s wrong with Twilight Zone?” Keith asks, glancing at Lance.

As if on cue, all eyes dart collectively towards him. Some mouths were gaped open. He really shouldn’t feel so self-conscious about being cornered by these nerds. He’ll take being cornered by robeasts any day.

_“You_ watch The Twilight Zone?” Lance jeers, raising his eyebrows. “It’s hard to imagine you watching anything other than The Matrix trilogy over and over again.”

“Who would’ve known,” Hunk mock sniffles. “Keith has a preference for something other than The Matrix.”

“And here I thought you were rather abnormal to be exclusively showing a sole interest in one film franchise while people your age should be exploring many!” Coran exclaims. “Take Lance for example-”

Keith groans. Not another _feel good_ lecture about how totally normal it is for teenagers to have multi-fandoms like Lance. “Been watching reruns on TV back then with my dad,” Keith mumbles, cutting in. “That’s how I got into it. No big deal.”

Pidge flings her arms around Keith without thinking, throwing him off guard. “You have _no idea_ how ecstatic I am to know that I’m not the only Twilight Zone fan here! It’s truly the best marriage of both science fiction and psychological thriller genres despite some of its macabre themes,” Pidge enthuses, completely unaware of the blush caught in Keith’s cheeks, staring at her this close. With his split second observation skill kicking in, he notices flickers of iridescent gold amidst honeyed brown irises and long, dark lashes casting spiky shadows below pale cheeks where specks of faint freckles settle across there.

He- His breath is caught as he takes in the sight of tawny fringes of hair framing youthful, almost elfish features of Pidge’s face in the most flattering way possible, her side ponytail a reminder of just how much time have passed since they’ve first started on this space voyage together that has enabled her to grow her hair that long. _Has it been that long already?_

Keith hadn’t realized when he started moving his hands- but they move anyway without warning, wrapping themselves around Pidge’s slim waist, as if responding instinctively to her touch. Her hands are still rested on his shoulders when she suddenly feels his arms sliding themselves up against her sides, and she grins, scooping in for a hug.

“Hadn’t peg you for a hugger,” she notes, soft lips brushing against the nape of his neck a _little too_ intimately for his liking. The foreign, tingling sensation alone snaps him out of his daze right then and there.

“Wait, _what-”_ He blurts, before belatedly realizing what current position his body had subconsciously betrayed him in. He jerks himself away from her, feeling his ears grow hot.

Pidge laughs, light and airy, bringing a hand up to playfully hit his shoulder. “Short-lived, but I’ll take it!”

A pillow was suddenly thrown in their direction out of nowhere, bouncing off Pidge’s head in a dull thud, missing Keith by a few inches. _“Pipe it down, you two!”_ Lance hisses. “Ya’ll missing the best part!”

Pidge sticks her tongue out at Lance who isn’t paying any attention to her, before bringing the thrown pillow up to her chest.

Before Keith could stop himself, the words were already out of his mouth. “That,” he starts, “supposed to be me?” He eyes the pillow she’s hugging in question.

It’s probably the single most cheesiest thing he’s ever said in his entire life and he wants to kick himself for it. _Was he hitting on her?_

Pidge turns her head to meet his eyes, the corners of her lips cracking upwards in a taunting grin. “You _wish.”_

She roughly nudges an elbow to his ribs, and he surprises himself when a short huff of a chuckle escapes his mouth. His eyes flick back up in search of hers once more but they’re a heartbeat too late- Pidge has reverted her gaze back to the movie playing in front of them.

Try as he might, he pretends to not feel disappointed by the way that she’s no longer leaning against him on the bed like before - opting to lean forward into the pillow instead. His shoulder feels cold all of a sudden at the loss of her touch and there really shouldn’t be any relevant reason for him to be so bothered about it but-

Sitting next to her this close, all he’d rather be watching is the way her expressions intently shift back and forth as the storyline progresses from its initial superficiality to a more profound undertone, so honest and candid and- the way the varying scenes of the movie are reflected back onto her bright hazel eyes, like a kaleidoscope of colours dancing amidst the sepia hues of her irises- it’s-

It’s mesmerizing.

And she’s… she’s leaning against Hunk to her right, Keith realizes, and he swallows down a gulp when he notices the first few beads of tears forming at the corners of her eyes before converging into her long lashes as the moisture mats them together. She sniffs, burying her face into Hunk’s broad shoulder, muffling her voice as she manages to weakly croak out, “I didn’t think this movie would get to me.”

Hunk dramatically tosses his arms around her, downright bawling. “It’s my sixth time watching this - it _always_ gets me!”

The choruses of cries are now joined by Lance, Allura and Coran and once again, Keith kind of feels left out from the team - no shocker there - but in truth, he really wasn’t giving his 100% concentration on the film the whole time anyway. Bunching his eyebrows in thought, he thinks he knows the main cause to his distraction - but he’d rather sweep it under the rug instead.

_It’s probably nothing,_ he assures himself.

_…Yeah._

_Probably._

* * *

Pidge can be quite touchy with her teammates but that shouldn’t - even remotely - be a problem to him. _Should it?_

From the start he knew the established friendship between the garrison trio that consisted of Lance, Hunk and Pidge. They shared a history together from way back before joining Voltron so it only made sense for their bond to be stronger than the rest. Back when he first joined the garrison, Keith had always kept to himself, appearing standoffish and cold towards his fellow classmates - which is probably why he never really made any real friends during his time there.

In general, Pidge hardly ever filters her open affection towards Lance and Hunk - there had been instances of platonic hand holding, occasional hugging here and there, and even casual head resting on shoulders that do not stir those two up the least bit. Totally nothing out of the ordinary for them.

Her treatment of affection even extends out to the newest paladin of the group, letting Allura carry and spin her in joy at times whenever the duo manages to work their way around impossible tasks that require both proficiency in scientific technology and aptitude in Altean magic - at the brink of giving up before coming up with a solution together. It often times lead up to Pidge sneaking in light pecks to Allura’s cheek in between hugs… as casually as giving someone a high-five.

_I mean, how is anyone_ not affected _by that?_ He thinks.

Pidge is a naturally touchy person and everyone has gotten past used to it by now so as the ever observant leader of Voltron, he should already see it coming in the way Pidge is excitedly covering his eyes in her hands, tall enough now to reach up to them without needing to stand on her toes - the warmth of her torso behind him tightening his chest, the close proximity of her breathing tickling the back of his neck; unwittingly stimulating the spread of a flush creeping upwards towards his cheeks.

_This is normal, this is normal, this is normal,_ he reassures himself for the umpteenth time. _Pidge is a naturally touchy person and everyone has gotten past used to it by now._

Everyone except him, apparently.

He feels her knees bump against the back of his own as they awkwardly make their way toward wherever the hell she’s leading him to. He groans when her feet accidentally stumble onto his, momentarily tipping him off balance.

“Okay, we’re here!” She squeaks, hurriedly uncovering her fingers from his face in one brisk motion.

He opens his eyes, finally, blinking in confusion at the familiar surroundings as he takes a step forward. “Um,” he mutters, unimpressed. “Any special reason why you couldn’t wait to drag me to the training deck at this hour?”

Pidge bounces on her heels without missing a beat, joining Keith by his side. Deliberately clearing her throat, she calls out, “Start Blade of Marmora training level one.”

And right on cue, a sparring bot immediately materializes in front of them but instead of its usual white armour backlit in neon blue, its current colouring is black with neon purple fluorescence illuminated from the slit fissures engraved into the armour in what seems to resemble the signature Blade of Marmorian design.

Keith’s mouth gapes open in awe but before coming up with a coherent response, he briefly takes notice on how swiftly Pidge has sidestepped away from him and the next thing he knows it, a robotic arm has come into vision within mere seconds in a deathly lunge towards him with its replicated Marmorian blade. Reflexively blocking it in one quick motion with his own authentic blade that he managed to fish out at the last minute, he grunts, pushing his weight into the impact to give him enough momentum to kick his body back to pace his distance from the droid, breaking the contact of weapons only to resume contact once more in a series of dodges and thrusts.

Getting into the rhythm of it all, Keith eases into the transition despite the abrupt start, brain kickstarting into high alert, flexing his arm muscles in between anticipated strikes until one particular blow nearing almost the hilt of his blade had twisted his wrist up in an awkward angle. He curses at the light throbbing of the beginnings of a sprain in that joint, bringing a leg up this time in one fluid kick to the opponent’s lower torso, almost knocking it backwards had it not catch its footing just in time.

Keith shoots an infuriating glare at a fist pumping Pidge whooping encouragement in the distance. _“How is this only level one?!”_

The robot pounces at him once more, deflecting at his every attempt in attack with adept precision. Keith tries to outsmart it by feigning a hit to the left when he really was aiming for the right, and the droid hardly falls for it - but Keith can be annoyingly persistent if he wanted to.

He can sense the robot momentarily glitching at his back and forth ruse and as he seizes that window of opportunity by diving in for one final counterattack, his opponent is already seconds too slow to intercept it - the concluding plunge to its chest of armour a testament to Keith's evident victory.

Unintentionally sinking his blade deeper into the droid without meaning to, though the fight had already been won, Keith can’t help but feel the rush of adrenaline fueling his veins, the alarming rate of his pulsing heart sending the erratic beat of its palpitation throbbing in his ears - the panging frequency of white noise drowning out any other sound within vicinity.

He exhales, a little too hoarsely, as he tries to catch his breath.

With one smooth pull of his blade from the penetrated armour, the robot readily disintegrates as quickly as it first emerged.

Pidge is howling from one corner, still cheering as she walks up to meet Keith. “That was some _serious_ ass kicking!” She slams a palm flat on his back, squelching the sweat there against the cotton fabric of his shirt. “Not bad for a test run, eh?” She quips, taking pride in the new training program she voluntarily calibrated herself.

“I could’ve _lost,”_ he growls.

“But you _won,”_ she supplies, her grin toothy and smug. “Though, um,” she bites her lip in an afterthought, eyebrows creasing in concern at the sight of new bruises peppered along Keith’s arms and shallow cuts across his torso that managed to slice through his shirt. “I didn’t think the level one battle sequence I’d programmed would go _that_ hard on you.”

Pidge pouts in consideration, going through the technical schematics in her head before quickly adding under her breath, “I gotta fix that,” as she begins to reach for the hem of his shirt.

_“Whoa-”_ He flinches, shoving her hands back down before hastily backing away from her out of reflex. “Just what are you trying to-”

“You want your wounds treated or not?” She quirks a quizzical brow at him.

“Uh,” he fumbles for more intelligible words but comes up with nothing instead, wearily unbracing his arms in front of him in painstaking effort to allow Pidge to… undress him. His hesitation towards the offer does not deter Pidge’s persistence one bit - she’d always been too stubborn for her own good, somehow always managing to get her way in the end.

She slides the black fabric up in one quick, effortless pull, eyes scanning across his bare chest for more visible injuries she should take note on. It’s been years since they’ve embarked on this journey together as paladins fighting side by side that she’d sometimes forget just how much her teammates have really aged since then. Keith used to be just as lanky as Lance when she first met him but seeing him now, she realizes how clearly he’s bulked up - all lean, toned muscles and defined abs across the same pale skin.

They’re sprawled across the floor of the training deck now with a first aid kit and an unopened water bottle Pidge had fetched from one of the store rooms, twisting the cap open to pour liquid onto a piece of cloth she plans to use to clean the wounds. She dabs at them, gingerly, across his taut chest and over the chiseled lines of his stomach. She feels him staring at her, studying her while she goes about her ministrations. Her expression softens but she doesn’t lift her eyes.

“You know, the fighting style of the Blade of Marmora was actually based on offensive Galran hand-to-hand combat,” she murmurs, applying gentle pressure on a pesky gash that wouldn’t stop bleeding. Keith winces at the sudden pressing down, and she lessens the pressure just a little before removing the cloth in her hand to inspect the wound. The blood has finally clot on that one so she moves on to another.

“They’ve integrated all sorts of bladed weapons into their fighting - knives, swords, daggers, machetes,” she went on. “But the best thing they’ve integrated so far that gives the Blade of Marmora their distinct close range fighting style is the mixture of defensive techniques borrowed through studying different combat sequences from various alien cultures.” 

If Keith’s body was tense before, his muscles are certainly relaxing to her touch now - far too engrossed in her educational monologue to pay heed to his initial self-consciousness of being semi-naked at her expense.

She meets his eyes then. “You couldn’t seem to land blows to that bot for quite awhile there, could you? It just kept dodging every move?” She smirks, watching his lips pull down to a frown. “Their defense is _just that good.”_

Pidge picks up an antibacterial sanitizer and squeezes the gel out onto her palm to sterilize her hands. Absentmindedly smearing a coat of antibiotic ointment to the tip of her middle finger before proceeding to tend to his wounds, movements habitual with muscle memory from being carried out countless of times before to her own wounds she’d gained from their many battles together, she stops herself right before making contact to his skin.

Peering up at him, she asks, “This alright?” Gesturing to her hand and wiggling her ointment covered finger. “I know some people prefer using cotton swabs instead-”

“It’s fine,” he says, a little too quickly, and he mentally curses at himself for sounding so eager. “I mean-” He tries to correct. “I don’t mind either way.”

She smiles, apologetic, shrugging her shoulders before continuing her first aid. The stinging of the salve against his skin irritates him at first but it gradually grows more soothing the longer it settles against his open abrasions. After adding more ointment to her finger, she starts working her way upwards, middle finger rubbing mindful circles against the scrapes on his chest with utmost care before moving onto the narrow graze on his neck. Her subsequent fingers lay cool and steady on the sensitive skin there while the medicated one works its way against the wound.

With her leaning into him this close, he dares himself to stare - from the impossibly clear reflection of himself staring back from irises that resemble pools of honey to the soft dip of a cupid’s bow amidst the curve of slightly parted lips. He catches low exhales against his jaw that smell faintly like mint and lemon toothpaste and-

And everything seems to play out in slow motion at this point.

It isn’t like before where he’d been caught unaware by his body’s inclination towards her - this time he’s fully conscious.

Conscious in the way he is deliberately bringing a hand up to cup her face. Conscious in the way he is tenderly thumbing her cheek. Conscious in the way he is tilting her face towards him.

There is a moment’s confusion flashing behind Pidge’s eyes as her hand that’s caught in between them curls against his neck, accidentally snagging on a wound he could barely even feel - not right now. Not when he can’t help drinking in the pretty sight of Pidge’s cheeks dusting pink, not when the seeping warmth of her soft cheek against his coarse palm has creeped past his own hand.

He watches her gaze drop to his lips for one brief second before reverting back to his eyes once more and the way that his senses are all heightened right now, he knows he hadn’t dreamt it.

_“Pidge, I…”_

He lets his forehead fall, now leaning against hers, the bridge of his nose nuzzling against her own. His eyes close shut in the intimacy of the moment but he couldn’t be too sure if hers were closed too. He decides this to be an insecurity he’ll mull over for another day.

Pidge has not resisted his touch for now so that’s the only hope he has leading him on to what he yearns for next - what he’d be repressing this whole time.

Keith kisses her cheek first, testing the waters, bracing for an opposite reaction, but she remains still and unmoving as his lips brush downwards, chastely kissing the side of her mouth he could so surely feel shift as her own lips part to angle themselves better in reciprocation to his advances. He feels his heart leap.

His mind is hazed with the scent of mint and lemon mixed with sweat on clean laundry and without waiting a beat later, he plunges down into a full kiss on her mouth, his chapped lips moving against her supple folds cautiously at first before prying her mouth open even more as his kissing deepens, knowingly greedy but ever careful, afraid he’ll scare her off - afraid if this was truly a dream, she would disappear.

He doesn’t feel her kiss back.

Not really.

* * *

“Keith, buddy, I really need you to work with us here,” Hunk badgers, palms pressed flat together in a plea for his undivided attention to the team intervention at hand. “This is a safe circle,” he gestures towards the paladins currently sitting in the lounge, “and we’re friends first before teammates so if you’re going through any problems… anything you wanna get off your chest - we’re here for you, man.”

“We’re truly concerned,” Allura chides. “You have not really… been yourself lately.”

“You’ve successfully managed to single-handedly fuck up all our recent missions is what she means.”

Keith turns his head impassively towards the direction of the thrown insult. Lance has his arms crossed, resolved on deliberately not facing him to aim his glare elsewhere. “Sometimes, I don’t even think you take this team seriously.”

Keith abruptly stands, visibly livid at that last accusation. “You know - I never asked you all to get involved anyway!”

“Gee, that’s the thing about working in a team - whenever we see a suicidal teammate about to nosedive to his death, we can’t just sit back and _let him,_ can we?” Lance takes a sharp turn, referring to the last reconnaissance mission turned full on attack thanks to Keith going rogue on them again.

His hands clench tight into fists at his sides. “I _had_ it under control.”

“I don’t think you even _knew_ what you were doing!” Lance barks, throwing his arms up in the air.

“I mean you kinda, sorta put us all in danger back there - no offence,” Hunk points out, sheepishly.

“Without teamwork, there _is_ no Voltron,” Allura reprimands. “You can’t keep making these recklessly selfish decisions at the last minute, without consulting the team first beforehand. It’s a question of integrity.”

“We’re not mind readers, man,” Hunk huffs.

“Pidge?” Lance presses, shooting an inquiring look at her. “Anything to add?”

“Yeah, you barely spoke,” Hunk realizes.

Pidge shifts uncomfortably in her seat, all eyes - including Keith’s - on her. “I think it’s unfair for you to be projecting your own personal problems onto the team,” she decides.

Keith snickers right then - humourless, and half-suppressed. “You’re one to talk. Didn’t you almost jeopardize an entire mission by going off track when you saw the opportunity to gain more intel on Kerberos?”

“Oh, that was _one_ time!” Pidge scowls. “You don’t know shit about my side of the story - so _get off_ my case,” she snaps, eyes steely as she stares him down.

“Yeah?” He edges on. _“Care to elaborate now?”_

Pidge stands and almost _leaps_ at Keith, hands flung out to shove at his shoulders. “Hey, _what’s your deal?”_

“What’s _yours?”_ He shoots back.

“Now, guys,” Hunk sputters, worry written all over his face at the probability of his two friends clawing each other’s faces off in a heated brawl. “This is a safe circle, remember?”

“We’re not even in a circle,” Allura offhandedly remarks.

“Allura - not helping here,” Hunk deadpans.

Keith pushes back at her, a surge of resentment over her misleading feelings for him taking over the longer he has his eyes on Pidge and her stupid pretty face glaring back at him in bold defiance, too proud to break eye contact. She retaliates by bringing a fist up in a hasty punch to his chest and he catches her halfway around the wrist, creased brows and quivering lips as the next words escape his mouth in one quiet cry, _“…Why did you lead me on?”_

Realization dawns and smooths the grimace on her face for a split second before returning back to twist her expression, involuntarily wincing away from him as his face dips closer to hers in intimidation, the question hanging like a lonely cadence in the air between them. “I don’t know what you mean,” she lies.

He tightens his grip around her wrist without thinking, pressing into her, curling his lips back in contempt, “You could’ve pulled back if you didn’t feel the same way,” he recollects, hurt by the memory. “You _stayed,”_ his voice cracks, feeling his hold on her grow slack. “You… _you made me feel like-”_ He stammers, shakily exhaling. _“Like I wasn’t the only one dreaming it.”_

Pidge bucks under him, feeling vulnerable under the unyielding scrutiny of her team leader, breaking eye contact finally - caving in to the intensity of his deep indigo eyes that are desperately searching into hers for answers she knows won’t satisfy him.

“I was confused,” she whispers in resignation, sliding her hand down from his limp grasp. “I’m sorry, Keith.”

Pidge steps back and brusquely walks out of the room, curt and abrupt, before anybody else could react.

Lance, Hunk and Allura have their jaws dropped open in stupefied gawks at Keith’s direction.

“Uh,” Lance pipes in. “Can somebody explain what the hell is going on?”

Keith groans, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

* * *

Keith figures everyone should have gotten over it by now. It’s been what - like weeks, now?

Team Voltron have always been good at getting over things pretty quickly in order to move forward onto recent tasks at hand. One adventure to the next.

And Keith has been slowly getting back to his usual self, though still impulsive in his actions like the risk taker he always was - his dauntless leadership so distinctively different from level-headed and benevolent Shiro’s - he knows, _his team knows,_ that he’s back on the right mindset to ultimately lead them now, carrying the team together through many successful missions under his direction as of late.

It’s been good - they’ve been working together better than ever and are currently in great shape.

Minus the fact that he’s not really talking to Pidge outside of business, of course.

It keeps him intact, distancing himself from unguarded emotions that will affect his overall performance lest they get out of hand - like that day in the lounge. It seems like light years ago.

He tries to convince himself that Pidge has moved on from it too, but he knows that to be false.

Because even now, as they’re slaving away in the kitchen preparing a celebratory feast - courtesy of Hunk’s big idea - for the Puigians of planet Puig in joining alliance with the Voltron Coalition, Keith could definitely tell Pidge is absolutely _floundering_ to attempt forced small talk with him.

“The last time I worked in this kitchen with Hunk, we’d been unknowingly baking inedible scaultrite cookies,” she jokes, making a retching noise.

“I heard that!” Hunk bellows in the distance.

Pidge laughs, continuing her chopping of some weird vegetable that resembles a blue cucumber. Hunk thinks they’ll be winning hearts if they’d improvise his own tried-and-true recipes with local Puigian produce.

She goes on. “The atmospheric environment on Puig sure feels like Earth’s tundra climate, huh?”

Keith hums, not really sure what to comment from there. He keeps himself busy with slicing silky cubes of coagulated curd made from some Puigian bean plant that reminds him of tofu.

“So…,” she starts again, awkwardly clearing her throat. “I heard Lance has been taking his chances with some Puigian ladies this morning and might’ve scored a date for tonight’s feast.”

Keith bites down a small smile, amused at her desperation in searching for a topic to pique his interest. He nods his head, remaining indifferent towards her.

“He’s already gotten his hands on traditional Puigian vestments just to impress her tonight,” she teases. “It’s gonna be epic.”

Keith drops his knife down on the cutting mat, finally turning to face her. “You done with that?”

Pidge blinks, caught offside by the question, and mechanically looks down. “Well, sure, yeah-”

Keith scoops in to raise her chopping board full of sliced blue Puigian cucumbers away from her, tilting it to dump its contents into the nearest metal bowl within reach. Jerking his head back towards the slimy, purple glob of formless grub sitting on the counter behind them, he informs, “You can start filleting the alien fish.”

Pidge stares at him, dumbstruck. _Man, that’s cold,_ she thinks. _Even for him._

* * *

Oh, Pidge’s got it _bad._

He knows this to be the case because her pestering for his attention has been tireless lately.

No matter the situation, he’d be getting random interactions from her like “Hey! I saw this T-shirt in the space mall the other day and it reminded me of you,” with Pidge proceeding to pass him a grunge T-shirt with the word _EMO_ across it, while Keith suppresses a face palm - to “Hey! I’ve updated the Blade of Marmora training program with a _Super Saiyan_ level,” before proceeding to announce _start Blade of Marmora training level Super Saiyan_ to the room while Keith scrambles to take up a combative stance, leading up to Pidge spluttering an incoherent jumble of _“Try-not-to-die!”_

It’s been especially chaotic in the Castle of Lions, and sometimes during missions where she’d be overly eager to impress the leader of Voltron by voluntarily taking up tasks on her own which usually end up with something combusting into explosions in the end. Pidge has been endlessly trying to make it up to Keith for _very publically_ rejecting him in front of their teammates that unfortunate day, dooming her into constant guilt and the clawing need to somehow compensate to him in some way - _every day._

“Keith _haaaaaaaates_ me,” Pidge whines.

“Keith doesn’t _hate_ you,” Hunk consoles, matter-of-factly. “He’s just pretending you don’t really exist as a coping mechanism after getting his heart broken like that in front of everyone, thanks to you.”

“Hey, that’s _his_ fault for assuming shit!” Lance interjects.

Pidge nods furiously, eyes wide in defiance. “I’d take deciphering Galran coding than deciphering my own feelings _any day!”_

“Wait, wait, wait,” Hunk cuts in, setting the record straight. “I thought you already _knew_ how you felt.”

“I said I was _confused_ at the time,” Pidge reminds him, tone uncertain.

“Whoa, you’re not saying-” Lance outwardly protests, putting two and two together. _“Tell me you’re not saying-”_

“Oh, she’s saying it alright,” Hunk interrupts, eyes widening.

“-that _Mullet_ stands a chance?!” Lance finishes, gesticulating wildly with his hands over his head.

Pidge shrugs, thinking it over. _“He_ might not give me one though - after everything,” she contemplates in thought. “I guess it might be too late to find out, huh?”

Hunk reaches over to shake her shoulders, trying to knock some sense into her - _ever the romantic._ “Pidge, you-” He sputters. “You _gotta_ tell him.”

“Tell him _what?”_ Pidge frowns. “Hi, it may have taken me weeks to realize that I might actually like you back - I’m sorry it took that long, _I’m emotionally stunted?”_

Lance snorts out of turn. “Oh, he’ll drink that one _right up.”_

Pidge sweeps in to deliver a punch to his shoulder.

_“Ow!”_

* * *

_Am I really doing this?_ Pidge questions, but her legs are already making that decision for her. _I guess I’m really doing this._

It’s supposedly bedtime by now according to the ship’s day to night calibration system adjusted to the human circadian cycle that the resident Alteans have also grown accustomed to despite Altea’s usual 28 hours a day - though it’s not that big of a difference from Earth’s 24.

This is, admittedly, Lance’s idea if Pidge had to be honest - the person she’d least expected to be willing enough to help her approach this… delicate situation at hand. Hunk had easily seconded his suggestion when he first voiced it out so maybe this might actually work if any idea Lance had did not immediately leave Hunk second guessing.

Pidge has her ellipse-shaped decoder she’d personally configured clasped to her chest - the same one used by Lance to project movies onto his wall during movie nights with the gang. She’s already kinda regretting not wearing one of her more better looking pajamas because _this is potentially watching a movie with_ Keith _we’re talking about here_ \- but her oversized green T-shirt and black shorts will have to do for now.

Slowing down her pace in the corridor when she thinks she’s arrived at his door, Pidge brings a hand up, exhaling a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, and-

Knocks.

_Shit, he’s sleeping,_ she panics. _I’m screwed, I’m screwed, I’m screwed._

It takes awhile - fuck, who is Pidge kidding? It’s taking _forever._ She’s already chickening out, a guilty part of her actually relieved he hadn’t responded, her tense posture relaxing as she begins to back away. _Right, at least she tried-_

Of course, the second she decides to walk away, the door slides open. _Of course._

Pidge contemplates her chances of sprinting off without Keith managing to recognize who she was. _Right. With her obvious short stature and preference to green coloured clothing nobody in the ship actually owns or wears?_ Fat chance - blurry running figure or not.

“Fuck, _hi,”_ the words stumble clumsily out before she could bite them down. Second to maybe Lance, Pidge has been known to excessively curse like a sailor whenever she’s high strung. Lance on the other hand, curses any chance he gets. 

Keith’s expression is unreadable but he doesn’t look groggy as if she’d just rudely woken him up from sleep so she quietly sighs in relief, thanking her stars. “I-” She stutters. “I have all seasons of The Twilight Zone downloaded in my decoder.”

Angling her head higher to properly look him in the eyes, she offers meekly. “Wanna watch?”

Keith does that thing where he subconsciously studies her face without meaning to again, looking for possible signs of distrust - as if trying to sift through beneath the supposed façade she might be hiding behind, expecting her fraud.

_There is no fraud,_ her eyes seem to say back, determined to prove her innocence.

He takes a step back, making room for her to come in, and from this vantage she can better get a full view on the familiar print on his dark T-shirt. “Hey, you’re wearing the _EMO!”_ She hollers, grinning on sight.

Keith groans.

“Get _in.”_

* * *

“…So, there’s this astronaut who was supposed to go to space for 40 years, but right before he left - _shocker!”_ Pidge jazz hands. “He met this beautiful woman.”

Sometime after watching the first three episodes chronologically, Pidge has somehow convinced him to skip to their favourites instead - since no two Twilight Zone episodes are connected either way, and every episode is a separate, individual story in its own right. Keith doesn’t have a particular favourite of course - and isn’t a psycho obsessed fan like Pidge - so he lets her steer their binge watch in the end, since it’s kind of fun watching her geek out about sci-fi. She’s talkative and overshares too much and he could swear he saw sparkles in her eyes and it’s-

It’s stupidly endearing.

“But for those 40 years in space, he was going to be in suspended animation. So when he returns to earth, he was going to be really young, and she would be really old,” Pidge explains, hands motioning as she speaks. “So he goes into space, and when he does come back, the woman is still young and beautiful because she put herself in suspended animation to wait for him,” she continues, visibly gutted at the prospect. “But he’s gotten incredibly old by this point because he took himself out of suspended animation so he could be old with her.”

“That’s depressing,” Keith frowns, eyebrows knitting together.

“He spent 40 years alone in space just waiting to see her, and was even willing to come back as an 80 year old man - giving up almost his entire life just to spend those last few years with her,” Pidge laments, shoulders slumping as she dramatically slams her head back onto the wall, closing her eyes shut as she pulls a pillow up to hug against her chest. “It _kills_ me every time I revisit that episode.”

“So why do you watch it?” Keith asks, innocently enough.

Pidge reels her head back front to pointedly stare at him. “For the _angst.”_

Now Pidge may be a genius in all things science and technology, but right now - and especially in Keith’s eyes - this nerd next to him is a hopeless, fangirling idiot. All wavy locks of caramel hair and warm eye colour to match - all spitfire confidence and sharp wit.

It's ridiculous how smitten he is by her.

Keith hadn’t realized but at some point while watching _The Long Morrow_ \- that episode Pidge was enthusing about - his arm had availed itself to snake around Pidge’s waist. He flinches in realization, about to retract back when-

Lacing her fingers on top of his, Pidge holds on.

She eventually guides his hand to settle against the flat of her stomach, and Keith’s too dumbstruck to even bother reacting at will, watching her guide him instead - awaiting her next, unpredictable move in bated breath.

Pidge leads him on, though her eyes are still glued to the movie - slowly bringing his complying hand higher, her still interlocked hand in his placing an open palm to the curve of her mouth, planting a tender kiss there, then carefully threading upwards to brush rough fingertips against velvety lips - and she kisses them too, thumb rubbing soothing circles against a knuckle.

Keith sighs at her touch, breath unsteady, eyes half-lidded. “Don’t-” he struggles to get the words out, voice hoarse. _“Don’t do this to me again.”_

Pidge turns, heart breaking at his plea, and determinedly climbs onto his lap to clasp both hands on either side of his cheek, desperately wanting him to know that _she’s here, she’s not going anywhere, she’s-_

_“I’m sorry I hurt you,”_ she whispers fervently, urgently almost, voice coming out in one breathy gasp - so close to him that their foreheads touch, so close to him that the scent of mint and lemon fills his air. “I want to try again,” she quietly chokes, voice low and wistful with regret and newfound longing. “Let me…,” her voice trails off as her upper lip briefly brushes against his, his body twitching at the intimate contact and heart rate quickening as it steadfastly beats in his ears. _“…try again.”_

Keith completely loses it, pressing his lips into hers right then and there, catching her startled moan inside his mouth in the process. She leans into him and he welcomes it by the gentle suck against her lower lip imploring her to open a bit more. She complies to his wishes, pliant and bending into his will, softly gasping as he slides a hot tongue in as it curls into hers, entangled in a fight for dominance over the other.

Pidge breaks away for a second to catch her breath, but not too far from his reach as Keith tenderly grazes the bridge of his nose against her own, peppering kisses to her blushing cheek, trailing downwards to her jawline, to her neck, lapping against the sensitive skin there in open mouthed kisses until he settles onto a passionate suck, bruising her fair skin as his hands grip hard on her waist for purchase.

Pidge’s toes curl from the pleasurable sting of the sensation, involuntarily grinding down against the dent in his pants as her thighs tremble to his harsh handling of her slender body.

Keith inches back to take in the gorgeous sight of a violently flushed Pidge - disheveled hair and glazed eyes with lips dewed in his spit. He grasps her ass, shoving her closer to inspect the reddening hickey he had marked earlier.

“Looks good on you,” he taunts darkly, licking his lips.

_“Shut up,”_ Pidge scolds, sliding a hand down the waistband of his pants to wrap around his cock.

**Author's Note:**

> just imagine keith going Rough and Heavy™ on her after pining on her for so long and pidge being the sly mastermind that she is, pulling his strings to her benefit for that ending smut scene i wont be writing
> 
> who's REALLY in control here, keith


End file.
